The graveyard is silent, almost serene. Stately, graceful willows, brilliantly green spring leaves that whisper quietly in the wind, twittering birds. And, contrasting so awfully with all that, the cold grey of the tombstones. Lifeless, cold, bleak – dead. Irreversibly and finally so, a permanent reminder of his painful, torturous loss. Of the gaping wound on his heart.

It seems ironic, to him, that this place should be so calm, so beautiful, so quiet, when in his heart a real storm, a hellish plague of feelings, rages insanely. Anger – no, fury, loathing, detestation. Bitterness – no, desolation, despair. Loneliness – no, a void, an emptiness, a black, empty space which nothing and no-one can fill. Love – no, obsession, a feeling so much more intese that it seems blasphemy to call it something as trivial, as simple, as 'love.'

He stands before the grave, the only grave he really sees here, the shrine for his love. A tall boy – young man, really – with longish black hair and eyes as green as the leaves. Eyes that are too wise for his age, eyes of a person who had seen too much, been through too much, suffered too much. Lost too much. Pale. Slim, thin, even – as if he doesn't, or can't, eat properly. With dark circles under his eyes, from so many sleepless nights.

He doesn't cry. He cant anymore – he'd cried gallons over the years. He's reached a state beyond grief, beyond simply missing his loved one. He merely bends and places a single white rose on the tomb – the symbol of death. An exquisite, perfect flower. As exquisite and perfect and pure as Cedric himself had been.

'I'm sorry I don't visit often,' he says, a note of bitterness in his low voice, 'too much work, and Hermione doesn't think it's healthy to spend much time in the graveyard. I still miss you thought...'

Oh, how trivial that sounds! 'Miss you'... He wants to scream that he doesn't 'miss' him. Oh, no. He yearns to see him by his side so much that his heart and soul break every time he thinks of Cedric's face. He often lies in his bed, hours at a time, simply remembering the few precious moments they had spent together. How little that seems, and yet that was what keeps him going. What keeps his heart from bleeding to death...

'Wake up, sleepyhead,' a soft, gentle voice muttered into his ear, his warm breath ticklish.

Harry smiled and opens his eyes, shuddering in the cold. They were by the lake; Cedric propped against a willow, Harry sitting between his legs, using Cedric's torso to lean against.

'Sorry. I'm just so tired...' Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

'You just survived an hour underwater, of course you're tired,' Cedric grinned, then bent and kissed the tip of Harry's nose.

'We both did,' Harry remarked.

'I couldn't sleep. We never have much time together, so I wanted to...' Cedric looked down, 'to savour it. Are you cold?'

'I'm fine,' Harry lied, but Cedric pulled up a blanket and wrapped it around the younger boy.

'We have another hour, then it's dinner,' Cedric sighed, his lovely face turning sad a little.

Harry understood. They got so little privacy, so little time together that it seemed unfair. Just snatched minutes here and there, a few lingering kisses at the back of empty classrooms, and an hour, or two under the cover of dusk, like then. At other times, there were forced to interact with a pointed politeness. To act like strangers.

'Promise me you'll stay,' Harry said with a sudden fierceness, 'promise me you'll always be here, always. That you'll never leave me. Cedric, I've lost too many people, I've never -'

'Hush,' Cedric placed a finger on Harry's lips, 'I promise.' He took Harry's hand and placed it on his chest, where Harry felt the steady heartbeat through the thin jumper, 'as surely as my heart beats. I'll always be with you.'

'I don't know what you're talking about, Cho!' Cedric said, as calm as ever.

'Cedric, do you think I'm stupid?'

'After the things you've just told me – yes!' Cedric was quickly loosing his cool. He began pacing, suddenly wishing he smoked. He needed something to calm him down.

'You don't kiss me anymore! You hardly speak to me! You spend your lunchtimes Merlin-knows-where! You're distracted, you smile without a reason, you forgot my birthday! And you dare claim nothing is the matter?'

Cedric closed his eyes, as if praying for patience. The he looked at the girl sitting on his bed.

'Cho, you don't understand -'

'I can't understand – I don't know what's going on! I – I sometimes think you're in love with someone else,' she looked at him, meekly now, 'Cedric, if you don't love me, all you have to do is tell me... I'll - I'll try to deal with it. Who is she?'

'You're – you're just a silly little girl, Cho!' Cedric finally blew up. He could not longer bear to see her tear-filled eyes and quivering lips and could no longer bear her trying to understand something she'd never have been able to comprehend.

She jumped to her feet and flew out of the room, sobbing hysterically.

'I don't want to do it,' Harry said, for what must have been the thousandth times.

'Love, we have no choice,' Cedric's voice was calm and soothing. 'We have no choice. Look, it's the last Task. We'll just get it over and done with, alright?'

Harry nodded.

'I'm afraid.'

'We all are, Harry. But we'll manage. Look, we'll sneak out tonight, after the task, alright? We'll find somewhere private and spend all night there, just you and me. Okay?'

'Really?' Harry looked innocent and hopeful at the same time, and Cedric suppressed the desire to grab the brunet and smother him with kisses.

Instead, he took Harry's chin and claimed his mouth in a long, deep kiss that seems to last millennia. A kiss that seemed to be a confession of all their love and care and fear and desire, all moulded into this simply, loving form.

Breaking away, albeit unwillingly, Harry placed his head on Cedric's chest and promised to do his best.

'For Hogwarts,' Cedric said, and repeated it right before they walked into the maze.

Harry shook his head.

'For us.'

A hand is lowered on Harry's shoulder. He turns to see a tall, willowy young woman with silver-blonde hair and an ethereally beautiful face. Fleur's huge blue eyes are filled with tears. Harry cannot fail to notice the bulge of her stomach, even under her overly baggy robes.

'Come, 'Arry,' she speaks quietly.

She is the only one who knows. She'd walked in on him, after the Tournament. He was sitting in a classroom and crying, unable to hold all that pain back. Silently, she sat down and he buried his face in her jumper, screaming like a wounded, dying animal, until his throat was raw and throbbing and almost bled. He spoke for a long time after that, even thought his voice was so hoarse it was barely audible, and told her everything. She had shared in his pain, his grief, his suffering, and he was thankful for that.

Bill waits by the car; Harry can see Hermione in the back seat, biting her lip nervously. He turns back to the grave, touches it for one brief moment, and speaks, so quietly that even Fleur cannot hear him -

'I love you. Always. As surely as my heart beats. I'll always be with you.'